Wednesday, March 31, 2010

One Little Rice Ball

While I sat at my desk eating my one little rice ball today, I heard on the radio a campaign for children sponsorship.

Intellectually, I've known there are several places around this world where what I have for lunch is what MANY have as their meal everyday.

For too many, sadly, this is their ONLY meal.

This reached a whole new meaning when understanding went beyond my mind and touched my heart.

How many are also so hungry they would be tremendously grateful for the one little rice ball I held in my hand?

Can those of us who have regular meals ever truly understand what that feels like?

One little rice ball.
One caring heart.
One message of Love --> Reach out!

- ESA

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Child's Present

There are times we are given a moment or two, to shed our adult perspectives and see things around us through the perceptions of a child:
  • The wonder of a birdsong before the dawn's first light
  • The sound of trees in the silent night forest as they speak to one another
  • The touch of the wind as it sails past with a feather-like touch or hurricane force
  • The pastels of early springs gradually darkening to the full colors of summer
  • The thrill of singing a song, alone or with others - even if not sung well
  • The pleasure in being part of team, working and playing together side-by-side
  • The joy in listening or telling a story
  • The scent of flowers blooming on the trees or of the first baking of the day....
  • The touch of God on a soul when one prays
A young child can live completely in the moment, without worrying about the future or comparing what is around them with the past.

God, too, is in the present moment.

While being present in the past when the past WAS the present, and in the future when the future IS the present, God does not exist in the past/future of our minds. We may think that is so, but God EXISTS in the present.

When we focus on the future or dwell on the past, we miss a good part of what is around us NOW. But if we allow ourselves to fully experience the present, we can also come to know we are not alone in doing so.

A child can live completely in the moment, and we should strive to never loose that ability.

Past is past, forever gone
Future is beyond, ever an eon
Present is the gift that goes ever on.

- ESA

Like a Child

In the story below, there is a gift Amit gave Yeshua/Jesus. But the gift was not the contents of the basket. It was something far more precious to Yeshua.

It was her faith.

A child's faith can be so pure and unquestioning. That is how we can convince them that magic, Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny exists. As we grow older, we question, we doubt and we put so much to the test before us - including our faith.

How hard it is for an adult to become a child, to simply accept things wholeheartedly, without questioning how something is to be, without the fear and doubt that fills our minds as adults.

But when we approach God as children, wide-eyed to see the wonders, without question... then we once again have a child's grace to step away from the doubt and the fear that fills our heads and blinds us.

I'm not saying live life with a blindfold on and be a sucker to every person who tries to take advantage of fools.

But when we fear to believe, when we question every little thing, and doubt every little wonder... then we also doubt ourselves. We become deeply mired by our doubts and fears and leave ourselves with no way to pull ourselves free. We stop progressing.

But when we let go of the doubts, questions and fears and place all our trust in God's hands, then we present the gift of our faith as well. And it's amazing what can truly unfold before our eyes.

Open arms
Open mind
Open soul

- ESA

A Palm Sunday / Passover / Easter Story

Here is a Passover/Easter story that starts on Palm Sunday, written last year. Please feel free to copy/share.

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Awaiting His Return


Amit was jostled by the crowds near the city gate. Short for her seven years of age, she couldn’t see what the commotion was about, but her young ears caught the exclamation, “He’s returned! Rabbi Yeshua (Jesus) has returned to Jerusalem!” Her heart leapt in joy. He came back! She vividly remembered the last time she saw him; the gentle voice and smile that lit up his eyes as he told stories to the children.

Squirming her way through the myriad thicket of legs, she dodged her way through the crowd, toward home. Dashing headlong across the small courtyard, she threw all her weight against the heavy wooden door to open it, stumbling into the cool dark interior.

Rushing to the hearth where two small bread loaves cooled from the morning’s baking, she carefully wrapped the better of the pair in a clean cloth. Cradling the still-warm loaf, she stepped out of the two-room home into the bright desert sunlight, pulling the door closed behind her.

She ran through Jerusalem’s narrow streets back to the gate, but the crowd was gone, leaving only dust motes sparkling in the sunlight. With a rising panic, she glanced around and discovered a path of palm branches strewn in the street, clearly indicating the procession’s direction. Green branches crunched under her worn leather sandals as she panted up that street. The scent of newly cut palms rose from the dust, mingling with the scents of humanity and animals common to the city of her birth.

When she finally caught up with them, Yeshua was dismounting the young donkey he rode into the city, and a great crowd of followers and curious onlookers gathered. Using her small stature to advantage, she clutched the loaf close to her heart and ducked between the people, pushing her way to the front where he stood. When one of his followers stopped her, Yeshua spied her and said she could come forward. With reverence and the unconscious grace only the young can exhibit, she approached smiling and held out her gift. “Here, Rabbi, it’s the first I’ve ever made!”

The cloth was now dusty from its journey, but warm to his fingertips as he accepted it; the aroma of fresh baked bread drifted out from the folds to greet his nose. He smiled kindly with twinkling eyes and lowered himself on one knee, meeting her gaze levelly. “Thank you, Amit.”

“I’m glad you came back, Rabbi Yeshua. I knew you would return to Jerusalem.”

His smile broadened and he placed his hand lovingly on her slim shoulder. “I tell you this, child. I will always return to those who believe.”

She grinned back and replied, “Thank you, Rabbi.” She bestowed a kiss on his bearded cheek and then simply turned and pushed her way back through the crowd towards her awaiting chores.

The following days passed in bliss; she rushed through chores as her father attended Yeshua’s teachings. Then she gathered with the other children to hear wondrous stories. At night, her family listened as their father recounted Yeshua’s teachings.

Four days after the memorable entrance, she helped her mother clean and prepare their home for the Pesach (Passover). She loved this holiday and even helped bake the matzoh and set the Seder Plate for that first night. Her father read from the Haggadah (Exodus) and asked the youngest child the traditional questions, starting with “Why is this night different?” The family prayed together and sang the familiar songs, eating with the dishes reserved for this special holiday. While she hunted for the Afikomen with her younger siblings, Amit wondered where Yeshua celebrated the Seder that night, and how long he would be in Jerusalem.

The next day arrived with a tumult in the streets. Her father departed early and returned quickly, demanding that she stay home with her siblings. “Do not even venture beyond our gate, Amit,” he admonished, knowing her tendency to be headstrong.

“Honor your father’s wishes, Amit,” her mother added as she draped her head-covering over her head and shoulders, following her husband down the street.

With her mother gone, she drew the water, tended the fire, baked the matzoh, ground the grain into flour, and other household tasks she could do. Her curiosity grew as the hours passed. At one point, she heard a great crowd moving through the city. Laboring to get the ladder against their home, she clambered onto the rooftop. But the crowd was too distant to see anything of interest as it traveled down the hill and out the gate. The girl sighed disappointed and returned to her chores.

Three hours later, she shivered and looked up from the small grinder in her lap. The sky had grown ominously dark, moreso because sunset was three hours away. Fearing a storm, she told her siblings to shutter the windows. She also prayed to God that if the storm was bad, her parents would find shelter; they were away a long time.

Gathering the grinder and bowls with wheat kernels and flour, she started across the courtyard. But before she reached the doorway, the ground violently shook, throwing her to her knees; bowls and grinder clattered to the ground, spilling her day’s work. Heedless of the loss, she shouted to her siblings above the unknown roar and frightening shifting and explosions of stone and mortar from the surrounding buildings as though she suddenly found herself beneath a giant’s grinding stone.

Hearing dismayed cries, she pulled herself to her feet and stumbled over heaving ground to the doorframe, bracing herself there. Her two siblings inside clung to each other, crying with wide, terrified eyes. Maintaining her grip on the doorpost just below the Mezuzah, Amit threw an outstretched hand toward them and grabbed a sleeve, yanking the pair through the door with a strength she did not know she possessed.

As the three tumbled to the ground, the earthquake ended as abruptly as it started. An eerie silence surrounded them; their coughing exceedingly loud in the air thick with dust under a dark, ominous sky. As the event began to register in her seven-year-old mind, she clung to her siblings and wept with them.

Not long after, their parents scrambled up the rubble-strewn street, entering their courtyard. Relieved to find their children alive and their home relatively intact, both parents clutched their offspring to their breasts and thanked God.

After a while, Amit found her voice and asked, “What happened, Abba?”

Her father gently grasped both her hands, meeting her curious gaze. “Today they crucified Rabbi Yeshua.”

She stood there, shaking her head wordlessly; silent tears streamed down her dusty cheeks. She mouthed the words “No” and “Why” but no sound escaped past the lump in her throat.

He embraced her, stroking her hair as the words sank in. After a few moments, she snuffled and pulled her head back, asking, “But Rabbi Yeshua will return, won’t he?”

He gently shook his head, tears welling in his own eyes. “He’s gone, child. He died today.”

“But… But he said he’ll always return to those who believe…. He said so….” The last words were a whisper fading into the dusty silence.

He tried to draw his distraught daughter back into his embrace, but she pulled away. With all the determination she could muster, she marched to the side of their home and uprighted the fallen ladder, climbing back onto the rooftop.

Shaking his head, he mounted the ladder and poked his head above the roofline. The child stared toward the city gate through which Yeshua was escorted to Golgotha. Evening fell early under the dark sky, but there was an inner light shining in his young daughter’s eyes. He gently asked, “What are you looking for, Amit?”

“I’m watching for Rabbi Yeshua’s return, Abba.” she quietly replied.

Tears rolled over his cheeks into his beard as he climbed onto the rooftop, standing beside her. Wordlessly, he placed his hand on her slim shoulder, watching with her as the environs slowly grew darker. Sunset approached; it was time for his wife to light the candles and for them to recite the Kiddush. He helped his daughter down from the roof and inside.

All through the Shabbat (Sabbath), Amit was quieter than usual, much quieter. She was deep in thought with a determined look that never left her features.

When the first three stars appeared that evening, she approached her father, “Rabbi Yeshua has been gone for over a day now,” she started matter-of-factly. “He’ll be hungry. Let’s prepare some food we can leave out for him to eat when he returns.”

Her mother was about to countermand her wishes, but her father solemnly nodded his assent. She practically skipped to the chicken coup in the courtyard, gathering the eggs to boil. As the hearth fire cooked the eggs and slowly heated the baking stones, she helped her mother prepare the matzoh and the evening’s meal.

A few hours later, Amit wrapped a warm shawl around her head and shoulders and gathered the basket containing a skin of wine, the hard-boiled eggs and matzoh. Her father held a lit lamp aloft, illuminating the dark road before them.

While she had been out after dark before, for some unknown reason this night felt different, and her skin pimpled with a chill as the words of the first Pesach question echoed through her mind, *Why is this night different?*

The familiar streets and known lamps in their stands, as well as the flickering light in the unshuttered windows and open doorways did not appear changed, but it felt as though she was seeing it all for the first time.

He escorted her down several streets; the aromas of the evening meals and fresh-baked matzoh filled the early night air, mingling with the scents of woodsmoke and heated lamp oil. Those scents faded as they exited through the city gates lit by smoking torches and made their way into a nearby garden.

There he paused and placed a firm hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. “Child, I’m taking you to the place where they laid the body of Rabbi Yeshua after he died on the cross.”

She nodded gravely; her determination only growing stronger. So he gestured with the lamp which path they should take. In a quiet part of the garden, there was a freshly-hewn tomb with a large stone rolled before the entrance, sealing it shut. Two bored guards entertained themselves with a dice game under the light of fluttering torches on poles to one side.

Her father gestured for silence and took the basket from her, passing her the lamp while indicating that she should hide its flame. Hugging the ground, he slowly and carefully made his way along the rocky outcropping opposite where the guards sat. Still several feet from the tomb, he gently placed the basket in a nearby bush and quietly retreated to his daughter’s side. Firmly grasping her hand, he led her quickly away from the guards.

When they were a safe distance, she returned the lamp and whispered, “Did you leave the basket where Rabbi Yeshua would find it, Abba?”

He smiled and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Child, if God in his wisdom led a serving woman to find the infant Moses in his basket among the river reeds, I’m certain God can help Rabbi Yeshua find that basket we left for him.”

She studied his face in the lamplight as they walked quickly. “You believe Rabbi Yeshua will return too, Abba.” It was not a question.

He paused and lowered himself to one knee, meeting her gaze levelly. “Amit, my daughter, I have heard of the many wonders Rabbi Yeshua has done. I believe he was, indeed, sent by God to our people. If he told you he’d return, perhaps… just perhaps he will. We shall see.”

He stood upright, affectionately squeezed her hand in his and together they headed home in mutual peace and understanding through the night air filled with Pesach songs.

In the darkness before the dawn, someone gently touched Amit’s cheek, awakening her from a deep sleep. A soft voice whispered in her ear, “Be quiet, child, and come outside.”

Careful not to disturb her siblings sleeping in the same bed beside her, she slipped out from under the warm covers and shivered in the chill desert night air. Barefooted, she left the sleeping room and padded across the main room past the banked hearth fire and out the open door.

Under a moon only days past its full face, Yeshua stood smiling at her as he stood there in brilliantly white robes. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and drew her unkempt hair away from her face. “Rabbi? Is that you?” she whispered.

His teeth showed clearly in his beard as he grinned broadly. “It is I, Amit,” he whispered back. He held out the empty basket. “Thank you for your gift.”

She accepted the basket and was about to reach up to bestow a kiss upon his cheek, but he stepped back. “Touch me not, child, for I have yet to go to my Father.”

She pouted. “You are leaving Jerusalem again?”

“For a time, but I will Return to those who believe. I will always return.” With another smile and a friendly wave, he passed through the courtyard gate.

Racing to the gateway, she looked up and down their street, but he was nowhere in sight. Closing the gate, she clutched the basket to her heart and told herself, “He’ll return someday, and I’ll be waiting.”

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-ESA

Friday, March 19, 2010

Fear the Lord?

Someone just sent me a Twitter DM that read, "I love people that fear the Lord!!! They're cool people!" For some reason I replied, "I Love, honor and respect God. A person doesn't approach the One (s)he fears. What I "fear" is disappointing Him."

We traded a few more DM's after that, but I believe my feelings were best summed up in this: "I know many Christians use the phrase, and that God does have a temper! For some reason, though, it seems odd to fear One I Love so much...."

In that nutshell I realized that, over the years, I've opened my heart to Love to the point where there is no more room left for fear. Instead, I have found unquestioning Trust in God.

I certainly know God has a temper! I know what God's Wrath can do....

But the Love inside helps me get past the trepidation caused by this knowledge and I'm able to open my heart wide to both God and others without fear. Even when I know I'll find heartache sometimes. I Love God so much that I cannot hold back and cower in fear; I just want to run to Him, do what I can to please Him and serve Him in whatever ways I am called to do!

What I now fear isn't God - but disappointing Him. Like a toddler who always tries to please a parent, sometimes I succeed, and I know sometimes I fail.... :*(

Looking back at these words, I also wonder how many people stake a claim in their faith ONLY because they FEAR the outcome of NOT doing so..... instead of opening their hearts to Love.

Seek the Love
To get past Fear
And find the Love so very dear!

-ESA

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Planting the Seed (story)

I wrote this about a year ago, but the early arrival of spring in southern New England has brought this post to mind. As I sit beside an open window and hear the crowd gathered at the outside tables of the pub next door, I decided it's time to repost this. Enjoy!

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The early morning sun rose gloriously in the eastern sky as the two walkers set out for a stroll down a quiet Main Street in a small New England town.

The woman glanced at a sign above a new eatery as they walked past, "Mustard Seed Cafe."

She smiled mischievously as she took a sip of her coffee and commented toward her companion, "That sign reminds me of something... Maybe something you said once, about a seed...."

The man walking at her side laughed, his white teeth showing clearly through his beard. "And what did you take away from that one?"

She shrugged and glanced around her looking for some inspiration for another witty remark. "Wasn't there a parable involved..."

A little wren dove down to the sidewalk a few feet before them and picked at the concrete block a moment, then fluttered away. "No, that's right, the parable I'm thinking about involved seed being tossed in different places, each failing save the seed that hit fertile grown and produced hundredfold or something like that."

He chuckled nodding, "...something like that. So what about the mustard seed?"

She grinned as she took another sip of her coffee from the travel mug. "Little seed becomes big plant. Right?"

His deep brown eyes took on a blend of challenge and mischeif, "Maybe you can write a story about it?"

She smirked, "Yeah, right."

He gestured expansively with his arm, "You are a writer; you were given that gift. Write a story about it. Maybe then you'd understand it better."

She took a good swallow of her coffee, while she started to wrap her mind around the challenge, knowing there was something there that maybe DID make a good story...

She shifted the story into the back of mind to simmer, and the conversation changed, covering a broad range of topics about what was going on in her life.

Before she knew it, the conversation arrived at the topic she needed to speak about. Part of her shyly wanted to hold back and digress, but another part knew this is why she asked her companion to walk with her this morning. She really needed his advice, his guidance. She rolled the still-warm metal travel mug between her palms as she searched for the words.

"I... I really don't know what it is I should be doing with my life. All these little projects get started, and then... they just seem to peeter off into nothing. I feel like I start so many things and just can't seem to finish them. What is it that I should be doing?"

He draped his arm lovingly across her shoulders and smiled gently. "Plant the seeds."

"And then?"

"Nurture them a little until they sprout."

Her hands paused as she glanced quizzically at him. "And then?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

He grinned, seeing she wasn't getting it, but - with infinite patience - gave her the time to think . "Nothing."

She knew that look on his face, she'd seen it before. She walked wordlessly at his side for a spell, fingers wrapped around the warmth of the mug and her shoulders wrapped in the warm embrace of his arm.

"But if I do nothing, what will happen to what I started? It would just unravel wouldn't it?"

"Not necessarily."

Again, she shot him an inquiring look, raising one eyebrow in his direction.

He smiled back at her but didn't say a word.

"Well?"

He paused and turned to face her. She stopped and faced him with a look that clearly read "Tell me or stop teasing me."

He playfully poked the bridge of her nose and quietly replied, "That's my job."

The challenge in her eyes faded as comprehension dawned in her mind. Then she smiled as they resumed their walk. She nodded and tossed back the last of the coffee. "You're right. I really should trust you more often."

Companionably the two continued their stroll down Main Street.

Two pairs of sandals tapped quietly down the sidewalk in the early spring morning. One pair worn below jeans and a T-shirt; the other beneath a desert robe from a bygone age.

- ESA

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Heavenly Post (Real Story)

I got this by email and wanted to share it with my readers. A heart-moving story:

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This is one of the kindest things you may ever see...


It is not known who replied, but there is a beautiful soul working in the dead letter office of the US postal service.


Our 14 year old dog, Abbey, died last month. The day after she died, my 4-year old daughter, Meredith, was crying and talking about how much she missed Abbey.

She asked if we could write a letter to God so that when Abbey got to heaven, God would recognize her. I told her that I thought we could, so she dictated these words:

Dear God,

Will You please take care of my dog? She died yesterday and is with You in heaven. I miss her very much.

I am happy that You let me have her as my dog even though she got sick. I hope You will play with her. She likes to play with balls and to swim.

I am sending a picture of her so when You see her You will know that she is my dog. I really miss her.

Love, Meredith


We put the letter in an envelope with a picture of Abbey and Meredith and addressed it to "God / Heaven". We put our return address on it. Then Meredith pasted several stamps on the front of the envelope because she said it would take lots of stamps to get the letter all the way to heaven.

That afternoon she dropped it into the letter box at the post office. A few days later, she asked if God had gotten the letter yet. I told her that I though He had.

Yesterday, there was a package wrapped in gold paper on our front porch addressed, "To Meredith" in an unfamiliar hand. Meredith opened it. Inside was a book by Mr. Rogers called, "When a Pet Dies" .

Taped to the inside front cover was the letter we had written to God in its opened envelope. On the opposite page was the picture of Abbey and Meredith and this note:

Dear Meredith,

Abbey arrived safely in heaven.

Having the picture was a big help. I recognized Abbey right away.

Abbey isn't sick anymore. Her spirit is here with me just like it stays in your heart. Abbey loved being your dog.

Since we don't need our bodies in heaven, I don't have any pockets to keep your picture in, so I am sending it back to you in this little book for you to keep and have something to remember Abbey by.

Thank you for your beautiful letter and thank your mother for helping you write it and sending it to me. What a wonderful mother you have. I picked her especially for you.

I send my blessings every day and remember that I love you very much.

By the way, I'm easy to find, I am wherever there is Love.

Love,

God

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- ESA

Little Crow's Discovery (Story)

Originally written (c) 2009 - Permission to copy/share this story is granted, provided you do not receive profit from doing so.


Once there was a little crow who lived in a nest deep in the woods. As the little crow grew, she discovered that there were very few like her.


The birds around her had wondrous variety of color on their heads and wings, backs and tails. The red-headed woodpecker tapped at the truck above her nest and the brightly colored blue jay and cardinal danced from branch to branch, resting on their springtime journey north. She extended her wing before her and looked down at her breast and saw only black feathers. She was black beak to tail.


Sitting dejected in her nest, she could hear the voices of the other birds. Most were gifted with many fine melodies by the Creator, and they sang of life’s glory with their lilting voices. The little crow opened her beak to try singing too, but only a course “Caw Caw” rose from her throat. Horrified, she snapped her beak shut and shuddered. This was no singing voice. She huddled deeper into her nest.

A silly mockingbird alighted on a nearby branch, and proudly demonstrated all the various mimicries she could do. This only made the little crow feel worse, and she turned her back on the mockingbird. She tucked her dark head under her wing, and let the wracking sobs choke through the pathetic coarse sounds in her throat.

A robin was passing over the treetops and heard the little crow’s cries. She dipped beneath the leafy canopy and pine boughs to find the little crow’s nest. “Why do you weep, little crow? It’s such a lovely day. Come, fly with me in the sunshine.”

The little crow peeked from under her wing with tear-filled eyes. “This day may be beautiful for one like you, but it isn’t for me.”

The robin cocked her head inquiringly and settled herself more securely on the nearby branch. “The sun shines for you as it does for me.”

“But what is there when the sun shines on me? I’m ugly! All the other birds have all these beautiful colors, but I am black from beak to tail.”

The robin chirped her laughter merrily, “Why, little crow, look at me. The males of my kind may have a prominent red breast, but I am brown like my sisters. I have no bright colors, but I still have something to contribute to this world.”

“Yeah,” cawed the crow, “you have that beautiful voice of yours. Listen to mine. I cannot sing like you.”

“You have something to share with this world too. The Creator had a plan for you when he made you. You just have to spread your wings and find it.”

The little crow hunkered down deeper into her nest. “I don’t think I can; there’s nothing to find.”

The robin sighed and spread her wings, fluttering off to find some worms for her meal. But she returned to the little crow’s side day after day, trying to coax her out of the nest.

Now what the little crow did not know is that many had taken interest in her. The pines and other trees spread their branches, protecting the little crow from the spring storms that rolled across the lands. They rocked their branches in the wind, trying to sing her soothing melodies and lullabies with their gently creaking boughs. But she would see and hear none of these. Why would the trees care about one little crow?

The woodland animals often listened to her mournful cries as she spoke with the robin and tried to think of some way to help. They called up to her nest asking her to come out. Some, like the chipmunk and squirrel, even climbed up the tree, sitting on a nearby branch to speak with her. When they left, she felt even more alone and refused to leave her nest.

At last the animals and the trees put their minds together and came up with a plan. They went to Coyote for help. Coyote wasn’t too pleased to be awoken from his nap, but when the trees and the animals collectively insisted, he stretched his lithe frame and said, “Show me where this little crow is.”

They led Coyote to the base of the tree and he sat on his haunches and called up, “Little crow, why are you still hiding in your nest?”

Surprised that he had come all this way just to speak with her, she peered over the brim of her nest. “There is no reason for me to come out.”

“Come with me, little crow, there is something I must show you.”

She hesitated, “No, you are just here to trick me. People say they care, but they really don’t.”

“Suit yourself, but you shall miss seeing one of the most remarkable sights in this land. There isn’t much time to see it, and I thought you would want to be there.” With these words, he rose up on all four paws and sauntered down the path.

Curious, she watched him as far as she could from the nest. Then with a quick look around her, she leapt from the nest and followed at a discrete distance, soaring from tree to tree with ease.

When he paused at the edge where the woods met a large open meadow, she landed on a nearby branch and called down. “Where is this remarkable sight? This is just a meadow.”

“Oh, it’s found in the meadow,” he replied, “but you need something magical to see it.”

“Oh?” She hopped down a few branches closer to him. “What?”

“Come closer, little crow, and I will show you.”

She hopped down a few more branches, a bit nervous to be so close to those sharp teeth. “What?” she repeated.

“This!” He leapt up and snapped at the little crow, causing her to fly up abruptly. When he landed on the ground Coyote held one of her black feathers in his teeth.

Horrified and shaken, she settled on the highest branches, knowing he could not get her there.

But he seemed to loose interest in her and, instead, trotted out to the center of the meadow. There he held the lone back feather up to the sky and smiled, gazing intently at it.

“Where is this remarkable sight?” she called out to him.


“I’m looking at it,” he replied. “Come and see.”


“All I see is my black feather; there is nothing remarkable in that.”

Coyote looked over at her with knowing eyes and then returned his gaze to the feather. “Come and see.”

She ruffled her feathers, still shaken by his earlier actions. But she had also heard legends about Coyote’s wisdom…. She hopped down to the lower branches and leaned forward, trying to decipher what he saw.

Her friend, the robin, alighted on the branch beside her. “What is he doing?” she wondered aloud.

Coyote smiled back at the robin, “I’m looking at one of the most remarkable sights in this land. Come and see it.”

The robin cocked her head curiously and fluttered down to the meadow. She timidly hopped over to his side and gazed up at the black feather. What she saw brought tears to her eyes and she just stood there, awestruck.

The little crow called out, “What do you see, friend robin?”

“It’s beautiful…. so beautiful….” was all that her friend could chirp.

Coyote smiled down at the robin and back to the little crow, beckoning her, “Come and see.”

She landed on the ground and little by little hopped her way apprehensively toward Coyote. She kept looking at the lone black feather he held aloft – a dark smudge against a perfectly blue sky. “I see nothing but my own black feather.”


“Come closer and see.”

Very anxious now, she hopped closer and closer; the feather became a larger and larger dark spot blotting out the sky. “I see nothing remarkable or beautiful here,” she cawed bitterly. “This is just a very cruel trick!”

“No it is not,” snapped Coyote, his patience gone. “Stand beside me and see.”

With a click of her beak, she stepped beside him and looked up at her feather. The bright sunlight shone around it as she moved into position, then Coyote turned the feather slightly.

Rainbows!

Countless shining rainbows sparkled gloriously through the feather. There were so many rainbows that she could no longer see the black of the feather. And all those remarkable colors danced before her eyes as the gentle breeze tickled the feather. “Beautiful!” she cawed, “More colors than I’ve seen on any other living thing….”

“That” he replied, “is what you have inside you. It can only be seen in the right light, but when it is seen, it shines as nothing else in this world. You may not believe you're beautiful on the outside, but the Creator placed something far more beautiful on the inside. You have many gifts within, words, images, stories, songs. Your voice may not sound the best to your own ears, but when you sing from your heart, it moves the hearts of others far more than even the eagle's cry or morning dove’s call.”

“Remember this.”

- ESA

Monday, March 1, 2010

Hidden Works

Quite a few times I've blogged that when we do some good work in this world that we should do it in such a way that as few people as possible know what we have done. There are some reasons why.

One, it's something Yeshua/Jesus the Christ requested: To do things in secret so that only God sees. OK.... but we may still want to know WHY He requested this.

One reason, as I've mentioned before, is so that we step away from the rewards that result from doing good works publicly. This public recognition becomes the reward and causes us to focus more on ourselves and less on others. We need to take our eyes from ourselves in order to grow inside.

The good works will stand on their own; let THAT light shine, not your own.

Playing the "secret santa" of doing good works in hidden ways can actually be quite fun. :D

And, one I have learned but have yet to mention: if we do good for another and they are aware of it, often they are left with the feeling/belief that they must reciprocate - even if they cannot afford to do so. So instead of doing good and helping another, we leave someone with the debt they cannot easily repay. But if they do not know to whom they have received the kindness, they are less likely to harm themselves - physically or financially - to repay that debt. Instead, they may be moved to pay it forward helping when and as they can.

Recently, I helped a friend who was struggling financially, as I have helped others and been helped by others in the past. I've told this person, as has been told to me and I've mentioned to others, "pay it forward when you can." This person, however, felt very indebted to me, and he insisted on repaying my kindness. I received a VERY expensive Christmas gift when he was still out of work and should not have spent the money. I still feel pretty terrible about this. :(

It IS sometimes best to do things hidden...

How can you do it hidden, you ask?
  • If you know of someone who is struggling to pay their bills, call up their local phone or electricity provider and offer to pay a portion of their bill. They will see a payment received and a smaller bill, and most companies will allow a person to pay anonymously - collecting your personal information only to process the payment and not tell the person you help.
  • Buy some bagels or other food goods from a place who delivers and have them deliver the goods to a local food bank or shelter.
  • Purchase gift cards/certificates, phone cards or prepaid visa cards and get them anonymously to someone who needs them (ie. drop in the mailbox), ship them to vets/troops overseas or any who may benefit from your kindness.
  • If you know someone is feeling down/alone/depressed, make up a small assortment of cookies, flowers or something small and cheerful and leave them hanging on their doorknob at home or on their desk, locker or workspace.
  • If there is someone who struggles shoveling snow, get out there early. Granted snow-blowers make noise, but clearing off cars can be pretty quiet on a winter morning. Even shoveling can be done quietly and quickly.
  • Purchasing food at a local supermarket and leaving it at someone's home is an idea, but use caution not to lure animals and know which door the person uses daily.
  • Pick up trash someone carelessly dropped to the sidewalk, curb or elsewhere and put it in the proper receptacle.
  • Stop to help a disabled driver, using caution as there are those who use that as a trap. :(
  • Smile at a stranger; say hello, good morning or comment on the weather.
  • Show up at a place where there are volunteers working and offer to help. If you must sign in, use your first name only and smile.
  • If you see someone having difficulty reaching something on a high shelf, wordlessly reach up and hand it to them with a smile. The same applies if they are struggling with a heavy or cumbersome load; go over and help them with it.
  • When you pay for your food at the supermarket, there is often a way to add a donation (either goods or monetary) to your local food bank.
  • There are countless non-profits that collect anonymous donations, large and small. Often at places like your local place of worship or your supermarket, there are drop-boxes for donated goods or money.
  • When you open a door, check and hold it open for the people that are behind you.
  • If you're going through a drive-thru, pay for the people behind you. You never know who you may help or how they may be touched. I've heard wondrous stories from the DC area of one movement there. :D
Many more ideas can be added to the list above. This is just a sampling. There are innumerable ways to share a kindness with others in this world each day. Most cost little to nothing.

I'd like to hear more if any of my readers don't mind sharing their ideas. Hopefully we can inspire one another.

Random acts of kindness
Throughout the world
Hidden though

-ESA